Leaving The One I Want To Take
by Hel83
Summary: Booth has a mission he has no choice but to accept, even if it means leaving behind the one person he wants to be with more than anyone else. BB relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the idea.

**Author's Note: **The title is based on the first verse of 'Look After You' by the Fray. It's a wonderful song, and I recommend you listen to it to understand where this story comes from.

In the time it had taken me to walk from the parking structure across the street – a mere hundred yards away – a gentle rain had begun to fall from the thick grey clouds that hung low in the mid-afternoon sky.

I stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to the grand columned entrance of the Jeffersonian Institute, barely aware of the sea of bodies that parted around me as they rushed through the summer rain. I had stood at the bottom of these steps, looking up at the imposing architecture above me, on more than one occasion in the past week. I had never got further than the fifth step, and now, as I slowly moved forward through the crowd, I counted silently. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. I paused briefly, willing my feet to move further. I glanced behind me, at the sea of multi-colored umbrellas below, then back up at a set of heavy oak doors. I kept them in my line of vision as I ascended the steps. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. I stopped counting at ten and quickened my pace, a new sense of urgency pushing me forward.

I barely noticed the physical effort it took to push open the doors to the Institute. The doors slammed shut behind me, the sound reverberating around the expanse of polished marble like a gunshot. The aging clerk looked up from behind the reception desk, her eyes surveying me from behind thick wire rimmed spectacles before returning her attention back to the magazine before her. A wrinkled hand rose to her neck and thick fingers played with the string of pearls nestled in the folds of her neck.

My feet carried me across the lobby before I was fully aware of where I was headed. I pushed open a door marked 'Personnel Only', wood scraping along the marble floor. I stepped into a dimly lit corridor where fluorescent lighting danced and pulsed against the marble walls. I ignored the works of art hung from the walls, walking past Rembrandt, Van Gough, and Angela Montenegro's recent addition to the art world.

It took me fourteen paces before I was stood in front of the glass automatic doors. I stood far enough back for the sensor not to detect me and watched the bustle of bodies as they rushed around the majestic hall that served as the Institute's laboratory. I could make out the huddle stood on top of the platform in the middle of the room, knew that she was there in the midst of the activity.

The doors whirred open as I stepped forward. I hesitated before I fully crossed the threshold, paused in the doorway as my eyes sought to confirm her whereabouts. I could see a gloved hand gesturing to a large plasma screen set up at the far end of the platform, heard her animated voice as she talked to her companions.

I moved forward, full of purpose. I counted the steps it took before I was stood at the base of the platform, but didn't pause as I walked up the stairs. An alarm beeped three times and a siren wailed as I reached the top of the platform. I hadn't swiped my access card, and I heard the hurried steps and admonishing tone of the security guard as he fumbled for his own card.

The group gathered at the back of the platform looked up as I continued ahead, weaving in and out of metal gurneys and various scientific equipment. She was the last to look up, but when she did her eyebrows furrowed and her nose wrinkled.

"Booth, what are you— ." I cut her short, my lips assaulting hers in a rough kiss as I grabbed hold of her shoulders. We stayed that way for a moment before the full extent of the situation caused her to pull back from me.

"Booth, what's wrong?" She was breathless, the light pink lipstick she wore smudged across her swollen lips.

I hadn't let go of her shoulders, and I held her at arms length as I spoke. "I have to go."

Those beautiful eyes reflected her confusion, her eyebrows meeting again. "Go? Go where? Booth, you're not making any sense."

I heard Angela mumble under her breath, heard a not so subtle response from Jack. My brain attempted to decode the words but failed.

"I have to go to Iraq." I felt tears sting the corners of my eyes, tasted acid rise in my throat. "The Rangers called me up. I don't have a choice."

She was shaking her head, her long locks swaying across her shoulders. I could see the glint of tears in her own eyes. "No." Her voice was breathless, incredulous. "You can't. I need you here." The tears began to fall and I wiped them away with the pad of my thumb.

I tried to soothe her but the words got stuck in my throat. "It won't be for long," I tried lamely.

Anger flashed across her features and she angrily swiped away her tears. "I don't care. You can't go." She breached the distance between us and wrapped her arms around my waist. I responded, wrapping her in my arms and burying my face in her hair. I breathed in the scent of her shampoo, of jasmine and passion fruit. It was a smell I wanted to carry with me forever.

"I love you, Temperance." I forgot about the line we had drawn between us, forgot about the group of stunned scientists stood beside us.

"I love you, too." She stepped back from me and I realised my hold on her.

"I'm sorry." I reached out and ran my thumb across her lips. Then I turned on my heel and walked away. I could hear her desperate sobs as I stepped off the platform, could hear Angela's comforting words. As the automatic doors opened and I stepped through them for the last time, made my way through the lobby and out into the thick summer heat, my own tears began to fall and mingle with the rain as my heart split in two.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the idea.

**Author's Note: **I know I said this was just a one-shot, but I wrote this without even thinking about it! I'm also planning on doing another two chapters, but I haven't decided whether the ending will be happy or sad. I hope that won't put you off.

**Author's Note 2: **Thank you to Bellabun, my beta. Even though she says she doesn't do anything, I know she enjoys reading these before everyone else!

The midnight air was icy, and my breath gathered in puffs before me. I pushed my hands deeper into the pockets of my jacket and looked up at the majestic architecture that housed the Jeffersonian Institute. Slowly I climbed the stone steps that led to the main entrance.

The door was unlocked, as I had expected it to be, and I slipped inside in a gust of cold air. The door echoed like an explosion as it slammed shut, and the night watchman looked up from his perch from behind the reception desk. He acknowledged me with a tight smile, and I felt the familiar anger bubble in the pit of my stomach as a shadow of pity fell across his face. I lowered my eyes and moved quickly across the marble lobby towards the door marked 'Personnel Only'.

I only used this door at night, choosing instead to use the entrance at the back of the building to enter the Medico-Legal laboratory during the day. It would have been easier to slip in and out without being noticed, but I needed that brief contact with humanity to reassure myself that this wasn't a dream.

The vast laboratory was empty, the only noise coming from the hum of electrical equipment. I deposited my coat in my dark office before crossing to the dimly lit expanse of the main platform. I climbed the steps slowly, solemnly, preparing myself for the task ahead. After swiping my security clearance card I stood at the top of the platform, butterflies flitting around my empty stomach. I hadn't eaten since breakfast – the sandwich I had ordered for lunch had stuck in my throat and I had thrown it away, half-eaten, just as I did every Thursday.

I made a beeline for the computer workstation at the far end of the platform, and noticed that it had already been set up and was waiting for me. Tears stung the corners of my eyes. Angela. She was the only one I had told about my late night forays. I sat down heavily on the stool positioned in front of a large flat screen monitor, and switched it on. The screen blinked to life, and I found myself looking at a blank screen. I adjusted the camera at the top of the monitor and waited, impatiently eyeing my watch every few seconds.

The computer beeped and a message flashed up on screen, asking me if I wanted to accept the incoming transmission. I clicked 'yes' and began what felt like an eternal wait until images flashed onto the screen.

"Bones, can you hear me?"

A lump rose in my throat and tears spilled down my cheeks as I nodded and bit down on my bottom lip. I breathed deep and fought to keep my voice steady. "I can hear you."

On screen, Seeley Booth grinned widely as he sat down before me. His brow furrowed. "Hey, don't cry." His voice was soft, soothing, and he reached a thumb out and swiped it across the screen as though he was wiping away my tears. I smiled.

"I'll try not to." I exhaled and rubbed my hands across my face. "How are you doing?"

Booth tried a small laugh, but it sounded strained and forced. "Oh, you know, same as usual. The food's horrible and the bed is lumpy, but I shouldn't complain." He lowered his head, and when he lifted it a moment later his eyes had a glassy quality. "I miss you." A single tear rolled down his cheek.

I tried to smile but was certain it was a grimace. "I miss you too. When can you come home?"

He shrugged and wiped his eyes. "I don't know. Soon, I hope."

We sat in silence for a moment until I remembered what I had brought to show him and dug deep into the pocket of my slacks. "I have something to show you. Rebecca sent it to me."

I unfolded a piece of paper and held it up so Booth could see the picture depicted there. Parker had drawn a picture of his dad, complete with camouflage and gun, and I had kept it with me all week until it was time to show it.

Booth laughed. "Is my nose really that big?"

I laughed and glanced down at the picture. Booth's nose was grossly out of proportion with the rest of his face. "Maybe in the eyes of a child it is." I folded the picture and tucked it away. "I'll put it with the others."

Booth nodded. He glanced to his side and I could hear talking in the background. Our time together was coming to an end. When he looked back at me, his brow was furrowed, his mouth downturned in a sad smile. "I have to go."

I nodded. "I know." I fought to hold back the sobs that had begun to shake my body.

"Please, Bones. I can't stand to see you so upset. If this is too hard, maybe we shouldn't do this anymore."

I shook my head vehemently. "No, I need this. Without this, I have nothing."

Booth shook his head and raised a hand, placing his palm flat against the monitor. I lifted my own until it was touching the image of his. "I love you, Temperance." His voice wavered.

"I love you too, Seeley." I watched as the monitor turned black, lowered my hand, and allowed myself to cry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the idea

**Author's Note: **Okay, so I apologise for those of you wanting a little less angst and more romance. I think this chapter is probably the worst of them all for being angsty, but I promise I'll ease up a little for the finale!

The summer sky was blood red, the setting sun sending out promises of more balmy days. A gentle wind blew through camp and rustled at our tents. Dust devils swirled across the arid desert floor.

I held the pen in my hand a long time before I put it to paper. It had been exposed to the air for so long that it the ink had dried, and I had to scribble furiously to get it working again. When it finally did, I lowered my head against the wind and wrote.

_Dear Brennan._

Too impersonal. I couldn't think of a time when I had addressed her by her surname.

_Dear Temperance._

No, that felt too formal. Every time I had called her by her first name in the past year it had brought a tear to her eye. Best to leave that until the end.

_Dear Bones._

Perfect. I could imagine her eyebrows meeting as she narrowed her eyes at the words, could see her grit her teeth. Had I been there to watch her read it, I would have smiled and joked with her.

The rest of the letter was no easier to write. I wrote short paragraphs about the weather, about the places I had seen, about the food and the other guys on camp. They were nonsensical, things that I knew she wouldn't care about, but I felt compelled to show off a sense of normality, that everything was okay with the world despite me being halfway around it.

Almost as an afterthought I added another, final paragraph. I told her how much I loved her, that her friendship and her love was what kept me going on the nights when gunshot ricocheted through the still air. That when I felt scared and alone all I had to do was look at the crumpled photo I carried around in my pocket and my strength was renewed. I signed my name in a flourish and added a small love-heart after the last letter.

The light had dimmed considerably since I had begun writing the letter, and I tucked it safely into the inside of my jacket, the paper pressed firmly against my heart. I stood and stretched aching limbs, and turned to head towards the catering tent. I had almost reached it when the whirr of a motor engine made me glance up. My eyes narrowed as I tried to distinguish it as friend or enemy.

The camp was alive with activity as my fellow soldiers scrambled from their tents. Some were armed, whilst others, like me, had been caught off-guard. We were the ones that went down first, and when the bullet hit me it knocked me off my feet. Fire spread throughout my body as I pushed my hand against the hole in my chest.

Through glassy eyes I watched a scene of destruction unfold. I felt as though I had been removed from the situation, as though I was watching it on a TV screen. I watched as bodies crumpled to the ground, but couldn't distinguish whether they were American or Iraqi.

My body began to shake despite the heat of the evening, and I curled myself into a ball. Pain radiated throughout my body, and when I lifted my hand to my face it was slick with blood. My breath came out in short gasps as I lowered it back to my chest.

I finally heard the motor engine roar to life once more, heard the distant whoop of victory. The noises faded, and I couldn't be sure whether it was because our attackers had gone or because my life was slowly ebbing away.

I felt strong arms around me, felt myself being lifted and carried. I could hear reassuring voices; felt a tender touch as my hand was moved from my wound. I spluttered, tried to form words, but my mouth was dry and the words stuck in my throat.

I thought of the pain and I thought of Temperance. Then, as darkness enveloped me, I thought of nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the idea.

**Author's Note: **So this is it, the grand finale. I hope it isn't too angsty for you. As always, I love to hear what you guys think, so keep the reviews coming in.

**Author's Note 2: **I have to say special thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story so far – your words of encouragement mean a lot. Also, thank you to Bella Loony for all her hard work in beta reading. And, last but not least, thank you to all the Boothy Bunch for their support and to the guys at the 'Yard who reviewed there. You're an amazing group of people!

The early morning sky was grey with bilious clouds hung low and heavy with unshed rain. The fall weather suited my mood perfectly as I stood in solemn silence, looking out at the rainbow of lights that lit the city. I watched as the traffic signals at the end of my street flashed from red to green and then back to red, their symphony of colors playing to nobody but me.

I took a sip of coffee from the mug clutched between my icy cold hands. The black liquid burnt a path down my throat and rested heavy on my stomach. Almost immediately I felt acid rise in my throat, and I swallowed hard as I set the mug down and went in search of Pepto-Bismol.

The clock in my kitchen told me it was a quarter to seven. In just over three hours the task I had been set – far worse than any I had faced in the laboratory – would begin. With a heavy heart I headed for a shower.

Hot needles stung my skin as I turned the heat up as high as I could stand it. I allowed the water to cascade down my cold skin, although it did little to warm my cold heart. I reluctantly climbed out fifteen minutes later, my skin scrubbed and shiny and smelling of soap. Wrapped in a soft, fluffy towel that smelt of fabric softener I headed to my bedroom.

I kept my formal wear tucked away at the back of my closet, bringing out for court days and funerals. I flicked through the hangers and eventually settled on a black v-neck afghan sweater and a black knee length pencil skirt. I pulled out a pair of black open-toed shoes, and gathered my underwear from the bureau opposite my bed.

I dressed listening to the silence that resounded around my apartment. It buzzed around my ears like a bluebottle around a corpse, and I strained to make out the sound of the clock ticking and a tap dripping. After I had successfully put on the third pair of tights without putting my nail through them I slipped on my shoes and headed back towards the kitchen, my stomach growling.

The fridge held little in the way of food, the shelves covered mostly by bottles of beer and water. A carton of Chinese food had been shoved to the far back of the bottom shelf, and my nose wrinkled as I retrieved it and tossed it into the trash. Closing the fridge door I opted for a toasted bagel instead, unconcerned that they were stale and past their date. I ate hungrily but my mouth felt dry, and I washed it down with a glass of orange juice. My stomach growled and I reached for the Pepto-Bismol again.

At nine I reached for my jacket and umbrella from the rack by the front door. In fifteen minutes Angela and Jack would be picking me up from outside my building, and I needed to be ready and waiting. I kept myself busy brushing lint from my jacket. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I thought about anything other than the task I was facing.

At exactly a quarter past nine I was waiting outside my building. The rush hour traffic had dissipated somewhat, and I watched the remaining traffic as it sped by. A car horn beeped a couple of times and I looked up in time to see a black SUV roll to a stop a few yards up from me. I walked towards it on shaky legs as Angela climbed out.

"Morning, Sweetie. Did you sleep okay?" She caught me up in a tight embrace and I breathed in the scent of perfume and hair lacquer.

"I'm fine, Ange," I replied as I pulled back. I climbed into the car and settled back against the seat. Jack nodded at me and smiled through the rear view mirror. I returned it with a tight smile of my own.

We drove in silence, lost in our own thoughts. I stared out the window, watching as buildings rolled by and gave way to trees and parkland. The car slowed and I could make out the grave markers that resembled tiny white pebbles as we pulled into Arlington National Cemetery.

A handful of cars lined the grassy knoll alongside the road that led us down the spine of the cemetery. Jack pulled in behind them and we climbed out. I could make out the funeral car at the front of the line, could see the uniformed officers waiting to carry out the sombre task of carrying the coffin to the grave. A lump formed in my throat and I was thankful for Angela's arm wrapped through mine as we weaved our way towards the crowd gathered around the opened earth.

We made our way towards the back of the crowd to the shelter of a majestic oak displaying its rich fall colors. A smattering of leaves carpeted the soft grass, and they crunched underfoot as we gathered in a huddle. Angela slipped her hand into mine, her other reaching out to take hold of Jacks. She regarded him with a small smile and rested her head on his shoulder.

The sudden drum roll sounded like distant thunder, and I watched as the uniformed officers heaved the coffin out of the car and made a path through the headstones to where we were gathered. The stars and stripes covering the coffin caught on the breeze and billowed, and one of the officers used a free hand to hold it down.

I heard a strangled sob as the coffin was set down and looked up in time to see a grey-haired woman step forward and collapse on her knees at the side of the coffin. She lowered her head until it rested on top of the coffin, and her wailing drowned out the sombre words of the officiant. She was joined by a man of similar age who stood behind her, his hands gripping her shoulders, his own tears of grief matching her own. Suddenly embarrassed at having witnessed such a display of private grief, I lowered my head.

I lifted it again as the crowd roused and began making their way back towards their cars. The kneeling woman was led away, her sobs echoing through the silence around us. We waited in our own private group until all but one of the mourners had left. Angela placed a hand on my arm, tears shining in her wide eyes.

"We'll wait for you in the car."

I watched as they walked away, nodding their heads in polite acknowledgment of the man stood by the coffin. I stood still for a moment, waiting until they had climbed into the SUV, watching as the man took something from his pocket and placed it on the coffin. His head dipped in silent prayer, and I didn't move forward until I saw it rise again.

He looked up as I approached, chocolate eyes red-rimmed and cheeks flushed from tears. "He was my best friend." His voice was strained and shaky.

"I know." My own voice was tight and quiet. I dug my cold hands deep into my pockets.

"It should be me laying there, not him." He was edging on hysteria, and I reached out a hand and placed it on his arm.

"You shouldn't say things like that." Anger swirled in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want him to say things like that, couldn't force my brain into imagining such a scenario.

He sighed. "We trained together, you know. That was how we met. He'd been so excited, so willing to die for his country. I wonder if he ever imagined that one day he would." He slipped his hand in mine and turned to face me. "Thank you."

My eyebrows furrowed. "For what?"

"For being here today." His other hand reached out and cupped my cheek. "It means a lot to have you with me."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else." A gentle rain began to fall. I realised I had left my umbrella in Jack's car. I tugged on his hand slightly, motioning for him to stand under the tree I had left moments before. He followed and caught me in a tight embrace.

"I love you, Temperance Brennan." His voice was muffled as he pressed his lips to my forehead in a kiss.

I smiled and tightened my arms around his waist. "And I love you too, Seeley Booth." I pulled back and looked into his eyes as I released a hand and pressed it against his chest, against the puckered scar lay hidden underneath his clothes. "Thank you for coming back to me."

We stood in the rain, holding each other, thankful that we were together after 15 months, two weeks and five days apart. We stayed that way until the rain subsided and the grey clouds parted. Then, with lighter hearts, we walked hand in hand from the cemetery, ready to begin the next chapter of our lives. Together.


End file.
